The Hang of It: a CSI: NY and NCIS crossover
by CSNdetective
Summary: While working on solving a serial killer case, Mac is roped into working with agents from Washington DC. At first the team seems invincible, but bad chemistry could be their eventual downfall." Hints of Tiva and maybe some McAbby. Humor is my friend.
1. In flight Entertainment

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS. CSI: NY AND NCIS ARE THE RESPECTED PROPERTY OF CBS.**

**This is pretty much my first shot at a full-blown fanfiction...so yeah. ;0; But I love both of these shows and after much encouragement from my awesome buddies, this is what you get. I'm not sure how long exactly it's going to be...but my guess is at least several chapters. More up soon, this was just an experiment to get the ball rolling.**

CSI: NY

Season 6

Episode --

"The Hang Of It"

While working on solving a serial killer case, Mac is roped into working with agents from Washington. At first the team seems invincible, but bad chemistry could be their eventual downfall.

(CSI: NY/NCIS crossover)

--

"It's true."

"Is not."

"It is."

"Not."

"It is too, McGoo," Tony concluded in an and-that's-that fashion, before adding "rhyme unintentional," with his finger pointed threateningly at the end of the other agent's nose. "No crack Dr. Seuss jokes from _you_, buster."

"They said it was paint, DiNozzo," McGee huffed, ignoring the threat. Abby was watching the discussion intently from across the aisle of the airplane, moderately amused. Ziva sat to her right, pretending to be preoccupied with a magazine. Tony had made a sort of game out of getting her to participate in the conversation, but had yet to do anything but fail.

He snapped back at McGee. "You ought to know better than to believe that, McGullible...it was a cover-up. Definately a cover-up. Right, boss?" He twisted back to his other side to address Gibbs, who also was seated next to him. Gibbs didn't reply, privately regretting not sitting with the ladies. At least they were decently quiet - well, one of them was.

"It must've been blood," Abby put in, her normally raspy voice hushed; she was enjoying pushing McGee's buttons and watching him grow exasperated. She toyed with her choker and watched him roll his eyes.

McGee shook his head. "There was not blood smeared down the face of the Statue of Liberty. The whole thing sounds like something right out of The Twilight Zone...I bet if you asked the detectives here you'd get the same answer."

Tony leaned forward and paused to build suspense, preparing to corner his unconvinced partner. "Tell me, McGoogle, what do they need red paint for in the head of the Statue of Liberty?" His eyes narrowed. McGee mulled the question over in his mind, opening his mouth and closing it again. Tony's face was lit with victory and he reclined his seat.

Gibbs was watching him now, severely unimpressed. The younger agent just offered a smug grin, and Gibbs let his attention fall back to the newspaper in his lap. _What a lost cause_, he decided. _Can't even buckle down and be serious in a serial killer investigation_. His own mind wondered who waited for them in New York City. He'd been informed that he and his agents would be working alongside a team of CSIs in the NYPD crime lab. All the evidence they had collected in the past few weeks - which was, admittedly, not much - was being carefully shipped to Manhattan and had no doubt arrived before them.

Tony eased himself upright again and cast a glance over at Ziva. He made a fair guess that she was only pretending to be reading an article on long-lasting antiperspirants; the fact that the page hadn't turned in the last 20 minutes helped him to the conclusion.

"Ziva. Hey Ziva."

She shifted but didn't turn to him. Tony expected that. She hadn't been talking to him much lately for whatever reason and it irked him to the core.

"Ziiiiiva. Zi-VAH. Ziva. Ziva. Zivaaa. Zivaaa."

Ziva chewed on her tongue deliberately; she didn't feel like hearing whatever stupid thing was going to come out of his mouth if she surrendered. So she didn't.

"Ziiiiiiiiivaaaaaa..." he said in hushed sing-song tone, growing louder. "Ziiiivaaaaaa....Zivaaaa...Ziiiiva...Ziva. Zi-"

Gibbs cut him off with a slap to the back of his head. Tony's expression faltered and he sunk back into the upholstery as Abby giggled. Ziva threw her a glare and Abby muffled her amusement with an airline pillow.

"You two just think you're the bee's feet, don't you?" Ziva spat.

McGee raised an eyebrow and Tony turned to Ziva. "Bee's knees," he corrected. For the first time on the trip, Ziva addressed Tony directly.

"That too."

Gibbs then sat up and glanced out his window. "We're here," he stated simply, beating the intercom to the punch. The other three agents stopped their bickering to listen as it fizzed to life.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to New York City. We will be landing at La Guardia shortly, so please be patient. We ask that you secure your seatbelt and do not move about the aisle until we have landed and the secure seatbelt signal is turned off. Thank you for flying with us this evening, and once again, welcome to New York City."_


	2. What's in a name

**And heeeeereeeeee we go. Thanks to all those who look at the first chapter.**

--

Mac rubbed at his eyes and checked his watch again. 2:34 am. Instead of at home, he standing in a grungy alleyway, cut off at the entrance by bright yellow crime scene tape. Not like he'd have been sleeping if he were at home anyway.

"Yo boss," Danny called, kneeling with a camera a few feet away. "Miss the coffee joint this mornin'?"

"If they've got any sense, they're not open yet," Mac answered. His feet felt like lead; every serial case was one more load of pressure he didn't need. He glanced over at the body Danny was photographing: caucasian male, 30s-40s. The only real odd thing he could see from that distance was the paper bag covering the head, with two neat holes clipped for the eyes; the kind a kid wore at Halloween.

Flack ducked under the tape and approached him, flipping through his memo book casually. Mac guessed he wasn't all that happy to be there either.

"Morning, Mac. Looks like another one...but nothing's been confirmed." He began to read just as another voice chimed in from somewhere behind them.

"The vic is Harry Novak, candidate for governor-" the voices said in unison. Flack whirled around to who was stealing his thunder, finding himself facing a brown-haired man about his height. He looked back at Flack smugly and, seeing his expression, flashed a badge before pushing past him. Flack was taken aback but dropped it, turning back to Mac.

"Got company, Mac." He addressed one of the other three walking toward him, a man with neat silver hair and a reserved expression. "You guys must be the cavalry."

Gibbs nodded briefly, looking over Flack's shoulder instead of meeting his gaze. "I'm looking for a Detective Taylor." Flack pointed, slightly miffed at being ignored. Mac turned and stepped over his open forensic kit, coming up to the other man and extending his hand. Gibbs shook it.

"Detective Mac Taylor. This is Detective Don Flack."

"I was told you were the man in charge."

"You were told right."

Tony had sauntered over to the corpse to survey the scene. It wasn't particularly lovely; the rain from the previous night had dampened everything in sight and no doubt washed away a few crucial leads. He stepped forward and stood next to Danny, who was kneeling down examining the corpse's clothing for foreign trace. _A lab rat_, Tony thought. He smirked to himself.

Once he saw the agent's shoes weren't moving away, Danny cleared his throat. "Danny Messer, how you doin'," he recited.

Tony put on his most impressive tone. "Special agent Anthony DiNozzo."

Danny could hear the swell in the voice and swallowed a snort, keeping his eyes on his work. _DiNozzo. What kinda name is that? Special agent DiNozzo. Yeah, nice to meet you, Mr. Special agent._ Danny leaned in to get a better look at a near invisible grainy substance, conveniently hiding the grin cracking across his face.

"So you the guys from DC?" he offered, still paying more attention to what he was doing than his visitor.

"Yep," Tony confirmed, glancing back at Gibbs and Mac who were, to his surprise, still talking. "What're they gabbing about?" he wondered, more loudly than he intended. Danny glanced up as well and shook his head.

"Dunno. Mac's no social butterfly." He stood up, surveying the lifeless figure sprawled out in the gutter. A rat grew bold and he chased it off with a frusterated kick of his foot. Noticing for the first time some odd bruising at the neck of the victim, he lowered himself again and lifted the eyelids. Petechial hemorraging. "Hey, Mac!"

Ziva finally managed to dislodge her own forensic kit from the crammed trunk. The car that had been originally headed for the hotel had gotten this lovely detour. Abby was leaning over the back of the rear seats into the trunk area, watching.

"You _could_ have helped me," Ziva huffed. Abby shrugged.

"Looks like you managed," she replied positively, unphased by the tone her fellow agent had used. Abby had noticed she was in a sour mood lately, of course. No, she didn't really know why, but she had convinced McGee to help her compile a list of possible scenarios - after bribing him with the phrase "Do you remember the time you ate my cupcake?". First on the list was the most obvious: it was something Tony had done. The two had been on a fine line lately; Abby grinned to herself and wondered if even Gibbs was curious about it.

McGee massaged his forehead, already exhausted from their trip. "Keep the claws in the paws, Ziva," he muttered. Ziva shot him a glare but bit her tongue.

"Sure. Sorry, Abby."

Abby had ducked back into the body of the car and sat watching the crime scene activity in one of the rear-view mirrors. McGee sat beside her and saw her eyes narrow as she watched Mac in the reflection.

"What?"

"I don't like his eyebrows," Abby stated, causing McGee to raise one of his own. She looked at him. "I want to be home, McGee. I need my own _space_. The Abby functions best in her natural habitat." The last line was so pleading that McGee would have laughed if he weren't so tired. Abby searched for a sign of sympathy before reverting to her quiet pout.

Ziva left the two alone and walked over to the scene. Flack lifted the tape for her and evaluated. "You Agent David?"

Ziva flinched slightly at his mispronunciation and her jaw tensed. "_Dah_-vid." She turned her head and studied him. "And you?"

"Detective Flack."

"...Flack?"

"Yeah." He puzzled over her reaction even after she'd walked away. _Dah-vid. Whatever. David. Looks like Day-vid. Where's the chic from, anyway?_

Ziva felt him looking at her and tried to shake it off. What if he was a pervert or something? She wasn't going to work with the someone like that, no she wasn't. _Flack_, she repeated in her head._ Flack. American names are very strange at times._

"Morning, detective," she said to Mac as the reached where he and Gibbs were standing by the body. Tony seemed to shrink at her presence and fell silent.

"Detectives," Gibbs corrected. "This is Detective Daniel Messer, Ziva." He tipped his head toward Danny.

Danny stood. "Just Danny's fine, Agent Gibbs."

"Just Gibbs is fine, Danny." Gibbs' face relaxed and Danny grinned. Mac found himself smiling at the exchange; they were all going to be working together for quite a while. Better to get making a good impression out of the way quickly so they could all get down to business.

Ziva smiled and continued. "Do we have a guess at the cause of death, gentlemen?" Mac looked back at the still figure.

"Asphyxiation...based on the bruising up by the neck and defensive wounds, most likely due to some form of strangulation."

Mac's response reminded Ziva of something. "Gibbs, where's Dr. Mallard?" She might have called him Ducky but decided to give Mac a shot at knowing who she was referring to.

Gibbs answered without looking up from the body, his pale eyes scanning the form and taking in what they could. "Still in DC. M.E.'s conference. He should be coming up tomorrow to give us a hand."

Mac smiled to himself again. _Well, Sid does complain about not getting many visitors in the morgue. Now he'll have plenty._

Tony wasn't aware at first that he hadn't taken his eyes off Ziva. He wished she'd just say something to him, even if it was some smart remark about his tie being crooked. He didn't like being ignored, especially not by her. It was making him fidgety.

Abby yawned. She wanted to be useful - but the field wasn't her thing, was it? McGee stayed sitting beside her, listening to her additional theories about Ziva.

"-And if that's not it...maybe it's something she ate."

"Something she _ate_?"

"_Speculative theory_, McGee. Maybe she lost a shoe."

"_Lost a shoe?_"

"Her favourite shoe!" Abby yawned again and let her head drop to McGee's shoulder. He was startled and she giggled. "Grow up a little," she teased, closing her eyes. McGee hmph'd. They stayed that way until the sound of Gibbs opening the driver-side door of the car made them both jolt.

"Rise and shine, you two. The coroner's here with the bodybag. Time to go get settled and called it a night."

"You mean a morning," Tony mumbled. Ziva claimed the passenger seat and Tony scowled as he opened the back door. "Scoot over, McCuddles..."

Flack walked over to Mac, who was watching the body being rolled away. "Witnesses: zero," Flack told him, defeated. "Ghost town out here. Irony, right? I figured we'd pick up some junkie who caught a glimpse of something..." He paused and glanced at the agents' vehicle driving away. "Whatcha thinking?"

Mac exhaled from the corner of his mouth and and picked up his kit. "Something along the lines of 'it's going to be a slow week'."


End file.
